


Between My Heart and His

by infinitevariety (disapparater)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxiety, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Comfort, Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 15:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30040491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disapparater/pseuds/infinitevariety
Summary: Aziraphale feels anxious, and Crowley helps comfort him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	Between My Heart and His

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an ask I got on tumblr and originally posted [here](https://infinitevariety.tumblr.com/post/645573859345563650/another-prompt-alive).

Aziraphale can feel his heart beating. Fast. He’s not exactly human, but he doesn’t think this is normal.

He’s used to it, though. His heart picked up its pace the moment he handed over his flaming sword and then lied to God about it. It hasn’t really abated since. _Anxiety_ , is what the humans call it. And yes, Aziraphale will admit he’s had a lot of things to be anxious about over the last 6000 years. Or, rather, one big thing.

The thing is laying beside him, asleep in bed. Aziraphale turns to look at Crowley, peaceful and relaxed in a way Aziraphale has rarely allowed himself to be.

So yes, Aziraphale has spent a lot of time worrying about Crowley. About Heaven finding out about the Arrangement, about Aziraphale’s feelings towards him, and about Crowley’s safety. Six thousand years waiting for the worst would cause anyone’s pulse to race.

But.

But now Aziraphale is two months past having anything to do with Heaven. He’s retied. Estranged. Ostracised. Heaven aren’t going to come knocking. They know about his fraternizing with Crowley and they are no longer out for revenge. Failed spectacularly when they were.

Aziraphale has nothing to worry about.

And yet.

And yet his heart is beating so fast it’s uncomfortable. It feels too big for his chest. Like it’s trying to escape its confines.

Aziraphale takes a deep breath. It doesn’t help. His breathing is under control, it’s only that his heart doesn’t seem to care about that.

A long, bony arm is unceremoniously thrown over Aziraphale’s chest as Crowley burrows his head between the bed and Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale is surprised the thumping of his heart isn’t waking Crowley up. Can he not _hear_ it? _Feel_ it?

With a gentle hand, Aziraphale holds Crowley’s wrist where it dangles from Aziraphale’s chest. He circles his hand until his index and middle fingers are pressed firmly on Crowley’s pulse point. The strong, steady rhythm begins to soothe and ground him instantly.

_Thump… thump… thump…_

A much more reasonable speed compared to the _thump thump thump thump_ of Aziraphale’s. This is possibly the only way in which Aziraphale has been the one going too fast. Aziraphale allows his body to imitate Crowley’s heartbeat. To calm itself down. He keeps breathing deeply, letting his heart rate ease to match his breaths.

Beside him, Crowley shuffles and groans, but does not remove his arm.

“Anxiety?” he asks groggily into the mattress.

Aziraphale hums affirmatively. “Only physically—I’m not laying here worrying, I promise.”

Crowley turns his head and hums dubiously into Aziraphale’s arm.

“I’m not!” Aziraphale protests.

Finally, Crowley lifts his head up far enough to be seen. He rests his chin on his free hand and peers blearily down at Aziraphale.

“S’not a bad thing though,” Crowley tells him.

“What isn’t? Worrying?”

Crowley shakes his head. “Letting your heart race once in while. S’what mine does when I drive.”

“Because the ever-present threat of discorporation is such a thrill?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale feels his heart rate pick up a notch again.

“I mean, it makes me feel _alive_.”

Aziraphale’s grip tightens a little on Crowley’s wrist. He lets that calm and steady pulse bring his own back down again.

“Explain.”

“Well, we’re not _technically_ alive, are we?” says Crowley. “I’m fond of this body, but it’s not _me_. It’s not who I am. But when my adrenaline pumps and my heart races—I can _feel_ alive. Just for a while.”

It’s ridiculous. Logically, Aziraphale knows it’s ridiculous. But still, Crowley’s words help settle his heart in a way that has little to do with how fast it’s beating.

Aziraphale lets go of Crowley’s wrist. He turns on his side and wraps both his arms around Crowley instead.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi and drop me a prompt on [tumblr](https://infinitevariety.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
